


Where Youth and Laughter Go

by faeriecap



Category: American Girl Dolls - All Media Types, American Girls: Samantha - Various Authors, Samantha - An American Girl Holiday (2004)
Genre: 1910s, American Politics, F/F, F/M, Flapper culture, Lesbian Character, M/M, Mentions of conversion therapy, Mentions of homophobia, The Great War, The Roaring 20s, Victorian era, WLW Character, World War One, i don't even know man, mlm character, vintage lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriecap/pseuds/faeriecap
Summary: Soldiers are dreamersWhen the guns beginThey think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives.
Relationships: Nellie O'Malley/Samantha Parkington, Samantha Parkington/Eddie Ryland
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Where Youth and Laughter Go

**Author's Note:**

> the Siegfried Sassoon done got me :(

The sky emptied buckets and buckets of rain into the glossy black streets The Day Eddie Ryland came home. Samantha heard about it in a telegram from Jessie. He'd been glanced by an exploding shell; "he returns missing three fingers on his right hand." He'd been waking each night in the military hospital thrashing and screaming with terrors. The army said he was in shock and needed rest. They discharged him home only because he was no longer able to correctly maneuver his weapon to fire it into German hearts. 

He'd never killed anyone, she explained, when Samantha had leapt behind the wheel and sped down to Mount Bedford. They were in her simple, but tasteful, sitting room, sipping at piping hot tea that held an interesting spice on the tongue, and holding blueberry muffins in their laps. Samantha's was crumbled to bits in her napkin, clenched between her fists. She knew Eddie had been a pill as a child, but Samantha never refused anybody help. He'd never made one kill, only some non-fatal injuries, and so it wasn't a huge loss to the government. 

When Samantha later waited in the Ryland family garden for Eddie to be wheeled out to greet her, she asked him about it up front to the chagrin of his nurses, who waved their hands altogether too much and stood clucking and warbling about his "shell shock," which, as far as Samantha could see was just a bouncing of his knee in the chair. He stood suddenly, amid gasps, and took her hand. His legs shuddered even hard, but it seemed to almost be with a rush of energy. His grip never faltered. She could feel how steady his hand was. 

"Not one soul was lost on account of my bullets. I missed all my shots. Every single one." And he grinned. 

With just a smile, Samantha Parkington forgave her long time nemesis all his past transgressions. 

Of course, Eddie apologized later on in their afternoon, once he'd vanished all the nurses with a cutting slice of his hand, and they between them had polished off three glasses of iced tea and an entire dish of finger sandwiches. He said he'd been rotten as a child and could not explain why... that he got no real joy out of tormenting her, but found no way to stop without avoiding her completely. Samantha arched one brow and held his gaze. 

"You could have talked to me. We could have been friends, you know." 

Eddie blushed down into his empty glass, pinched between his left hand, which was still whole. Then he flitted his eyes upwards and said nervously, with a lot of clearing of his throat, "I hope... that we could be friends now." 

After that, she stayed in the family home with Aunt Cornelia and Uncle Gard, who'd taken over its upkeep since Grandmary's passing a few years before. And she went over nearly every day, to read to Eddie, play memory games with him, bring him baked goods and candies, to play piano for him. They spent nearly all their time together, sometimes going for walks between their family properties, her uncle occasionally glancing at them out a window or overlooking their pacing from the upper balcony with a knowing smile. 

She wrote to Nellie, still busy with work, very often, but no one thought anything of it. They were lifelong friends and lived together after all, and with the sacrifice she was making, Samantha had every right to have her friend keep track of her affairs. The last letter she wrote came a few months into her absence. She missed the other girl terribly but could not find a reason to call her away from the city. Then, one morning, before the light beamed across the green manicured lawns, Eddie telephoned to ask if she would come right away. Peering out the window of her childhood bedroom, with its same trappings of lace and gold, she saw his small form creeping beneath the lengthy fingers of the dawn. Still in her nightgown and housecoat, she dashed between the hedges and met him by the stone wall at the back of his grounds. He fidgeted and raked his large hands through his hair, curled strands of amber sinking to the floor between his fingertips. 

"Samantha!" He breathed with relief upon seeing her hurrying near. They no longer bothered to call one another Mr. Ryland or Miss Parkington. His clothes, though rumpled, were rather formal. She blushed slightly upon realizing he'd taken the time to dress. Or perhaps he'd been up for quite awhile. 

"What is it, Ed? Jiminy, the sun isn't even up yet!" 

His lips thinned into a short line. He fumbled a bit with the pocket of his trousers before producing a butter yellow band engraved with tiny sunflowers, cradling a large green stone within its tiny gilded prongs. His quivering limbs refused to obey his commands, but he managed a sort of stooped curtesy as he took her hands between his. His right had healed almost completely, and without thinking she rubbed the pad of her thumb soothingly over the rough ropes of scars. "Samantha. I have a favor to ask of you." 

"Alright." She replied, uneasy at the tremble in his voice, which had returned to strength under her ministrations. 

"I'm not a fool; I'm aware that you uprooted your very existence the moment you got word of my miserable arrival. For that, and for everything you've done for me, I cannot ever hope to repay you. And now-" He broke off, swallowing thickly. "Now I ask more of you. But I hope... I hope that since you have done all that and more, you will rescue me again, now." 

She clutched at him tightly, certain he soon would drop to the black leaves of grass, dewy and glinting beneath the moon. "What's happened, Eddie, what's the matter?" 

"Would you marry me, Samantha? Soon. As soon as you possibly can. I know you have your job in the city, and your family, and your friends. I ask too much, I know it deeply. But I ask to preserve my safety, and the reputation of my family's name. I-In the War... when they sent me home. It wasn't just because I was in shock. Or because I'd lost my fingers. They... That is I was, discovered, with an officer. Now, many men took the same course as I!" He cut in hurriedly, eyes imploring. "They cited it to loneliness and despair of losing much of my regiment some weeks prior. My officer was.... burdened.... by guilt. And as a survivor, he turned to me for companionship. And he lured me astray. That's all." Eddie sighed, choosing the bitter words with care. "Except, there had been incidents... while I was away at school. As a boy. Bullies, you know, forcing me into actions I never wished to take, you understand? That's all. That's all! Dammit!" He turned and kicked a branch that lay amongst the weeds. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Samantha, you must believe. I never would- except they think I need more care. My parents, that is. They believe it would be better, now that I'm more recovered, to send me away to a rest facility. The kind for men of my character in order to..... cure me." He spat, releasing her in order to wring his hands with woe. "They were arranging it before you arrived. It is only because of your good grace and compassion," His lips parted to allow a small sob. "That they Have held their judgement. They believe us to be courting. Not for any reason of mine; they only understand that you care for me, deeply. I am well now. I will be well. If we court properly... shortly, then marry, I will be saved. You will save me. I cannot... cannot promise I will love you in the way you deserve to be loved. But I will die before I let any ill befall you, and give everything to ensure you want for nothing." 

"Eddie." 

"It is a horrid thing to do, Samantha, but I must ask-" 

"Eddie. Please, I will do it." He sprang back from her, mouth agape. 

"Truly, you will?" 

She risked a small smile, eyes twinkling. "Yes, Ed. I'll marry you. I can care for myself, and I've cared for you. I do not need your love... I have found love aplenty on my own. And we're friends, aren't we? Who better to marry than a true companion of the heart?" 

"This ring was my grandmother's." He tried, overwhelmed with a fresh wave of tears. Naturally, it glided onto her finger without a hitch. 

"Perfect fit." Samantha commented, as they both stared down at their shaking hands. Then she beamed at him, and hurried back inside.

She wrote the letter to Nellie at once, begging her to journey forth right away. "I can't tell all for fear of ruining the surprise!" She scrawled, dotting the page with about a million tiny hearts so her friend would know she spoke in code. "But Edward has proposed, and you must come right away!" 

It would be good to see her again, and taking friend along on their outings would add an air of naturalness to the affair. Having him relate to her closest companion surely would seem serious in his parents' eyes, since he'd known her family as a child. She hoped any awkwardness of having been in their employ would not linger in Nellie's gentle heart. 

The young woman arrived without haste, taking the bedroom beside Samantha's in the grand old house. 

"It's strange, being here again." She said, from her place at the window, overlooking the neat lines cutting up the grounds. "I feel as though my idle hands should burn to touch it." Samantha was there in three swift strides, and pressed those calloused, tiny, palms against her heart. 

"You have every right. And this time, there's no need for us to bludgeon a rug... Unless we wish it." She smirked, and Nellie dropped her head upon her shoulder, with a soft laugh. 

"Were they really going to hurt him?" 

She felt the nod as Samantha's chin rubbed against her hair. 

"He pretends not to know what he's like, for their sake I suppose. But he knows he wasn't persuaded... Nor has any desire to have his passions tortured from him. And- it will be good, I think. To be his wife. I am getting older... Old enough to question. If not Ed, it would have been some other such fellow... A chairman at the office, the son of one of Uncle Gard's friends, a boy I met at church on Christmas. The younger brother of Agnes or Agatha's twin husbands." She rolled her eyes. "At least I'm familiar with him. And I like him. Samantha Ryland doesn't sound too terrible, right?" 

They moved back to the city. Samantha claimed business matters, but really Eddie didn't wish to stay in his family home any longer. They bought a large apartment, the penthouse on the top floor of a grand building near the Park. Nellie moved with them, of course she did. Because they had the room, no one could deny that, and Samantha had suddenly displaced her without a home when they'd left the flat they had leased. And their work was so related anyhow, it made sense that they should stick together. Samantha would have moved mountains to stay with Nellie. She'd nearly risked as much before for her friend. Samantha spent time fixing up the place, even hanging her silly childhood decorations in the winter, and cutting new ones with a bubbly smile at the dining room table when they tattered relics fell apart in their hands. Eddie took charge of folding the creamy paper, and Nellie sketched each pattern with a pencil before Samantha made the first cut. 

"We will find you a someone, yet, Ed." Samantha grinned mischievously, watching his stiff hands work. Her husband grunted a noise of protest. 

"Oh come on! Jessie's godson Charlie's a buck, I know you think so. I'll invite him to dinner Christmas Eve." She sniffed airily. 

Nellie nodded sagely. "I plan on hanging lots of mistletoe." 

The gleaming metal sheers reflected in triplicate shinning, amicable smiles. 

They adopted three children. First a waifish boy of about nine, and his brother, then a little baby all the way from California, whose young mother had been beside herself when her sweetheart came home as ashes in a small container, and went with him to the grave. And Samantha loved them with all her heart, scrubbed their faces in the morning, brushed the hair back from their faces before they left for school. Nellie stayed on as a caregiver, working from home on the lesser cases while Samantha held down the office front. Her sisters doted on their "little nephews," and Agnes and Agatha always sent the most fashionably in little suits and books and toys over. All was well. Samantha adored her sons, and was happy to have given them a home when she could. 

But some nights, lying in bed with Nellie's soft snores rumbling the thoughts dancing through her head, she'd take a sudden chill and go pace through the library, her robe flying behind her like the billowing petals of a flower, only to wilt down against her ankles. Uncle Gard's children were growing quickly, already finishing their final years of primary school. But Samantha had no siblings. She was alone in this. It tormented her at night, as her fingers worried and worried at the cool pendant clutched in her grip. She'd pry it open and stare and their unmoving faces, yearning for an answer. Her sons were hers, and she wanted for nothing. But if she waited too long... Her parents blood would die with her. 

Four years into their marriage, Samantha sat down across from Eddie as he nursed a cup of coffee and the paper, pushing her short hair back from her forehead. "Ed, I want a baby." 

He sputtered, choking on the crust of his breakfast. "You what?" 

"A baby, Ed. You know we've told everyone we're trying." 

"Yes, Samantha, we lied. I thought you understood our arrangement." She stared at him, expressionless. 

"What about our sons, Samantha? Don't you love our sons, Sam?" 

"Of course I do. This isn't about them. Those boys are mine no matter what anyone says. But... people might wonder, and-and I want to have one." She didn't say "of her own." Her sons belonged to her in her heart entirely. She wanted to have one. The having was the part that mattered. 

"Next you'll tell me you want to cut your hair." Ed grumbled, lips against his coffee. 

"Well, Nellie's bob does suit her." On her way out, she tapped his head with the rolled tip of her newspaper.


End file.
